


roger taylor blurbs — smut

by laedymoonarchive



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:55:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26264560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laedymoonarchive/pseuds/laedymoonarchive
Summary: a collection of multiple smut blurbs/headcannons abt roger taylor
Relationships: Roger Taylor (Queen)/Reader
Kudos: 9





	roger taylor blurbs — smut

**Author's Note:**

> \--- this is a repost of content originally published on my tumblr. i no longer use it and am slowly getting rid of my posts, so everything i've written is being archived here ---

**request: Roger concept - joining the mile high club with him 😉**

roger and yourself aren’t exactly known for your prime decision making. you have fun, no fucking doubts about that. but as far as making well thought out choices, or even just _slightly reasonable_ choices goes, you’re certainly not the couple to turn to.

in fact, it’s the very mutual fault that’s led to roger being buried to the hilt inside of you in a cramped, stuffy airplane bathroom.

“gotta be quiet, love.” roger slides two of his fingers between your lips. “don’t want anyone to hear what a filthy slut you are, gettin’ fucked in a plane bathroom.”

you moan around his digits at his words, and he reaches to grip one of your thighs, slinging it around his waist.

your cries come out garbled as roger plows into you from a new angle, his cock nudging at your g spot and his free hand twisting at your clit.

“bet you’d like that though, wouldn’t you darlin?” roger’s nail brushes your clit as he speaks and you bite down slightly on his fingers, making him growl.

“such a little fuckin’ minx. want fred and bri and john and everyone bloody else to know what a f-fuckin slut you are?” you nod and roger stutters slightly, his hips snapping erratically to yours. he’s close, but you’re closer, and you thank god for rogers digits muffling your cries as you reel over the edge.

as a particularly emphatic moan spills from your mouth at the height of your orgasm, roger tugs his fingers from your mouth with a _pop_.

it’s definitely the loudest sound you’ve ever heard, ringing through the cubicle and almost certainly into the cabin outside.

“fuck.” you whimper, your cheeks flushing red. roger smirks at you lazily, still chasing his high.

“thought that’s what you wanted, love?” he grunts.

all you can do is whine in agreement, because really, he’s right, and the way he’s sweeping his hips to yours is distracting you from coming up with any kind of counter argument.

roger finishes inside you with a string of curses and moans, as pretty as the golden hair that’s currently slicked to the nape of his neck.

you let your head drop to his shoulder when he’s spent, the two of breathing in sync for a beat before roger pulls out of you.

“shit.” he pants. “you were bloody incredible.”

“ _that_ was bloody incredible.” you help roger with his shirt buttons, which he’s put in the wrong holes, and readjust your own skirt.

“a good idea, then?” roger says. he reaches to finger comb your hair, an attempt to make it a little less disheveled. you know better than to touch his.

“don’t know about good. fun, though.”

roger chuckles. “ready, then?”

“yep. how are we explaining this? took a slash at the same time?”

“couples who piss together stay together.”

you emerge from the bathroom giggling, stumbling your way back to your first class seats, only to be greeted by three sets of judgily quirked eyebrows.

“gone a while, you two?” brian deadpans.

“we both had to pee.” you stifle a laugh into roger’s shoulder.

“i’ve never found taking a piss that enjoyable, myself.” john says. though your cheeks burn crimson, you can’t help but laugh along with the boys. so they all heard you then, you suppose.

“you two couldn’t wait the two fucking hours we’re on this flight for?” freddie says.

“you’re just jealous, fred.” roger drops into his seat and pats his lap for you to join him. “don’t worry, i’m not going to desert our band for the mile high club.”

“please, darling.” freddie snorts. “i’ve been a member since ‘78.”

\-------------

**request: Roger find then the reader has a nipple piercing 👀**

  * pining over a friend always results in an almost electric build up of emotions and desires, threatening to spill over at the slightest provocation
  * so, naturally the first time you and roger hooked up, things got hot and heavy pretty fast
  * the time it took for you to migrate from brushing your lips against his from across the bar to straddling him in the backseat of his car was nothing short of gold medal worthy
  * with his shallow breaths fanning your chest, his hard cock pressing at your thigh, and the feverish intensity with which his lips were crashed against yours, it was fairly easy to forget to warn him
  * you didn’t even clue in when roger deftly unhooked your bra, threading it out from under your shirt with expert precision
  * not the slightest thought occurred to you when he tore your shirt open, aside from that his lips were soft and you hoped you’d remembered to shave your legs
  * it was only when roger ducked his head to nip at your chest, liking at sucking at your nipples, that you realised you perhaps should’ve mentioned it
  * because fuck, did it hurt like hell when your piercing caught around his tongue
  * you cried out, arching your back and squirming away from rogers mouth
  * he was off you immediately, apologising profusely, worried he’d hurt you
  * it was only when you’d taken a breath and explained to him, flashed him the shiny silver ring, that an amused grin slid onto his face
  * “how the fuck did i not know about this?” he bent closer to inspect it
  * you batted him away with a laugh. “because i made sure you didn’t. knew i’d never hear the end of it.”
  * “and you won’t. holy shit, the things we’ve got to try now.”



\-------------

**request: can we talk about rog in the fuckin radio gaga video? god his hair alone is to die for but then you add the way hes sitting with one foot up on the front of the flying car, and the leather pants and the lil bit of back you can see and hhhHHHh im gonna go feral. i wanna know whose job it was to wrap him up in strips of red material (leaving bits of his arms and back exposed!!) so i can thank them. anyway, i guess you can take this as a smut concept? im just in A Mood tonight and needed to vent 🤷**

let’s take an angle on this: you’re the one wrapping him up in those strips. let’s say you’ve been working with queen for a while; a general assistant, helping them get on stage properly geared up, prepping their hair and makeup people for each music video. only issue is, your almost impressively incompetent intern forgot to book the stylist for day one of the radio gaga shoot, so you’re left with a pile of meters-long red fabric strips and four bare-chested band members. brian, freddie and john figure them selves out fairly quickly. freddie’s sash only has to go over one shoulder, while bri’s and deaky’s are covered predominantly by black leather vests. this just leaves roger standing before you, a crimson pile in his hands.

“could you help me love?” he mutters.

perhaps you agree too quickly. it’s not exactly a secret to the rest of the boys, namely freddie, that you’ve got quite the crush on their blonde drummer. but who could blame you? he’s ridiculously pretty on the worst of days, and seeing him all dolled up in leather pants and eyeliner, running his hands through his fluffed-up hair, is making it very hard for you to do your job properly.

you begin running the material around his torso regardless, becoming less and less inhibited with how much your hands brush his bare skin as you go. roger doesn’t seem to protest when your nails lightly graze his chest, fingers dancing down the slight curve of his hips.

 _what you’re doing is completely unprofessional._ you scold yourself, but it does nothing to stop the trajectory of your hands, down, down, down. _do you hear me? you could lose your fucking. job_.

“what’re you doing to me?” roger groans suddenly, encircling your wrist and tugging it away from his tented crotch.

you blink at him innocently. “just helping you out. like you asked.”

your doe eyed stare seems to light a fire under roger, and suddenly he’s grabbing you by the waist, pushing you up against the dressing room wall.

“little fuckin’ minx.” he mutters, along with an alphabet of whispered dirty talk that leaves your head spinning as he nips at your chest. before either of you have time to give the situation any kind of logical analysis, he’s fucking you over the makeup table, your hands tied behind your back with the crimson strips dangling from his chest.

\-------------

**request: what about dom!reader riding sub!roger’s thigh**

“gonna behave, pretty boy?” you sling your leg over roger’s leather clad thigh, picking up his large hand and pressing it to his chest.

“i’ll be good, i-fuck, i promise.” he whimpers, tensing his thigh beneath you.

“good boy.” you murmer. once you’ve adjusted yourself properly, using your free hand to twist your panties to the side, you begin to rock your cunt slowly against roger’s leg.

“ _shit_.” he gasps as he watches you, your back arched, hands braced on his knee, your mouth dropping open with each nudge of your clit against the cool fabric. roger knows your rule - _no touching_ \- but he can’t resist, snaking his hands up your thighs and to your waist.

“no touching, bub.” you tut. “don’t think i can trust my pretty boy to keep his hands to himself.”

roger whines as you encircle his wrists in your fingers, lazily pinning them above his head. “ _please_.”

“d-don’t be a brat, baby.” you fumble your words slightly as your orgasm begins to crackle in your stomach, every sweep of your hips becoming more intense and stuttered.

“jesus christ.” roger mutters as your leg nudges again his painfully hard cock. he looks just as fucked out as you do - cheeks pink and lips bitten and pretty eyes fluttering closed.

“e-eyes on me bub.” you moan. “eyes on me, and then you can touch me.”

roger responds almost comically quickly, his eyes springing open and his hands falling to your waist as soon as you release them. your moans become pornographically enthusiastic when they grip at your breasts, twisting your nipples through the thin fabric of your shirt.

you cum all over roger’s thigh with an empassioned cry and your head thrown back, hands reaching in front of you and palming unintentionally at his cock.

he lets out a pained grunt, and you realise how close he is. “my sweet boy gonna cum without me even touchin‘im?” you pant, descending from your high.

“yeah.” he whines softly. he throws his head back, exposing his hickey-stamped neck to you.

you lean forward, bracing your hands on his hips, and begin nipping at the skin of his collar bones, licking and sucking until he’s squirming, cumming beneath you. roger ruts his hips into the air desperately through his orgasm, encouraged by your murmers of “ _good boy_ ” against his décolletage.

“fuck.” roger pants as you slide off his thigh and into his lap.

“how was that?” you tuck a piece of golden hair behind his ear. “know you don’t get like this very often.”

roger presses a kiss to your temple. “brilliant. just what i needed.”

“me too.” you smile dazedly.

“on the other hand.” roger shifts you slightly on his lap so he can examine the wet spots on his crotch and thigh. “how the fuck’m i supposed to explain this?”

\-------------

**request: okay but for the smut dialogue prompts 21 (behave) and 27 (cum for me baby) with roger tho**

“ **behave** ” roger growls at you, gripping at your hip bones in an attempt to keep them from rutting into the air.

“m trying, rog.” you whine. and really, you are. but roger’s been teasing you for the past twenty minutes, and aside from the fact that his fingers ghosting around your aching clit has got you _unfairly_ riled up, you only have ten more until the boys break is over. and the thought of sitting through another three hours of rehearsal in your current state has you desperate.

“hurry.” you plead. “please, rogie.”

“so needy, angel.” your boyfriend chuckles. you hate how right he is. with you splayed out on the couch beneath him, your skirt hiked up to your waist and you underpants tossed aside somewhere, he’s got you in the palm of his hands.

his, stupid, teasing hands, which are grazing at your thighs instead of fucking you like you need them to.

“and so wet. do you like being teased like this, love?” you whimper as his fingers drift towards your heat.

you shake your head, though the glisten coating his hand as he brings it to his mouth tells a different story.

“no? do you want to cum, darlin?” he pouts. you know he’s mocking you, _the bastard_.

“y- _yes_.” he interrupts your reply with a strategic nudge at your clit.

roger chuckles and without a second of warning, thrusts into you with three fingers, a devilish grin spreading across his face at the way you jolt up.

“fuck. _fuck_.” you cry out. what felt like _hours_ of teasing has brought you dangerously close to your orgasm already, and with the obscenely erotic sounds of roger’s finger slipping in and out of your wet cunt, you clench around him almost immediately.

“ _so_ pent up, baby.” roger coos. he drops his head to lick at your arousal as it comes, a hand firmly on your lower stomach to keep your hips in their place.

“thank you, rog.” you pant as your high lulls, tugging at roger’s blonde locks to let him know you’re finished.

but he _doesn’t. let. up_.

“roger.” you warn as he lifts his head. his fingers are still at your cunt, circling your clit.

“thought you wanted to cum, love?” he begins fucking you with two of his long fingers, stuttering your reply.

“i-i did.”

“‘m just giving you what you want pretty girl.”

_prick. evil prick._

his hands are relentless, rough finger pads pressing at your clit till you cry out and gripping your hips down with a bruising hold.

you eyes flicker to the clock mounted above freddie’s piano. you’ve got _one fucking minute_ until the boys are due back. and if roger’s hands desert you before you can resolve the pressure in your lower stomach, you’ll have to go the bathroom and do it yourself.

and as if it won’t be _painfully_ obvious what you’re up to.

“worried i’ll leave you like this?” roger follows your glance.

you nod with a whimper.

“all needy and wet for me?”

“ _yeah_.” is all you can manage with the friction building at your heat.

“‘d never do that to such a pretty thing.” he mutters. **“cum for me, baby.”**

at his command he dips his head to suck at your clit, bringing you to your high with an utterly pornographic moan.

“shit, roger.” you chant as his tongue coaxes every last drop of your orgasm from you.

“satisfied, darlin?” he says as he brings his lips to yours, letting you taste the clear liquid coating them.

“thank you.” you breathe. you drop your head contentedly onto rogers chest.

“my pleasure love.”

outside the door, you can hear the muffled sound of freddie’s melodramatic tones. _perfect timing_.

“i think the boys are back.” you mutter into rogers chest.

“think you’re right. i’ll make you a deal.” roger pulls away from you as the door lock clicks.

“i’ll let you cum as many times as you want tonight.” a smirk grows on his face. “if you can get your knickers off brian’s guitar stand before the boys get in here.”

\-------------

**request: "I want to fulfill that fantasy you've always wanted" and "Say my name" "Louder",from the sinful smut prompts(guilty) for 70s!roger where he myb caught the reader moaning his name in a dream?or however you want.I love your blog xx**

dating someone as incredibly busy as roger has it’s perks and it’s downsides. the former, you’ll admit, are few and far between, and the latter, annoyingly common place.

you’re happy for your boyfriend, of course. but nights spent alone in your shared flat while he’s stuck at the recording studio make it harder for you to remember why.

you find yourself drifting off to sleep long before he arrives home, despite your mutual promises that you’ll use the evenings to make up the time you miss together during the day.

so it doesn’t come as much of a surprise to you that your subconscious starts.. _compensating_ for the roger you miss out on - dreams which started fairly innocently and morphed into fully fledged fantasy exploration.

there’s one that’s been recurring lately. something you’ve never really explored before. that you didn’t even know you were into. it’s reared it’s head again tonight - not that you’re complaining. in fact, you’re quite enjoying it - right at the climax (no pun intended), when you’re awoken by movement on the bed next to you.

“you good there love?” roger’s laid beside you, still dressed, eyebrows quirked in amusement.

“shit.” you rub your eyes. “did i wake you up?”

roger shakes his head, smirk still present. “just got home. if anyone was interrupted, i think it was you.”

“you heard that?” your cheeks flush.

“should i be jealous?”

you give him a soft shove. “ah, piss off.”

“so. what were you dreaming about?” roger props himself on his elbow next to you, bringing his hand to your jaw.

“nothing,” you shake your head.

roger raises his blonde eyebrows. “you were awfully enthusiastic for _nothing_.”

you say nothing, just look down at your heads. _stop blushing_.

“c’mon darlin.” roger tilts your jaw to look at him. **“i want to fulfill whatever fantasy you’ve always wanted.”**

you shake your head again.

“what if i guess?”

you exhale incredulously. _he’s bloody persistent_. “okay rog. if you guess, i’ll tell you.”

“alright.” roger looks excited as he sits up, crossing his legs beneath him. “you want me to.. tie you up?”

you snort as you shake your head. something about the whole thing - him guessing what you’ve been fantasising about - is entirely ridiculous to you. “no.”

“choke you?”

“ _no._ ”

roger gives you wicked smirk. “spank you?”

 _fuck_. you’re sure your face gives you away.

“that it?” roger’s face is impossible to read.

“don’t be a prick.” you mumble. “i can’t control my subconscious.”

“no i’m.. i’ll do it.”

“you don’t have to.”

“ _i want to_. turn around.”

“roger-”

he cuts you off, his voice takes on _that particular edge_. “clothes off, turn around.”

you comply, pulling the loose shirt you’ve stolen from roger’s cupboard over your head and resting your palms on the mattress in front of you.

“tell me if it’s too much?” comes his breathy voice from behind you.

you nod eagerly, already feeling arousal gathering at your entrance.

“how do you want to do this?” roger asks, though it’s clear _it’s not really a question_. “want me to fuck you from behind while i mark up that pretty little arse of yours, darlin?”

“please,” you whimper.

“ **louder** , baby.”

“ _please_ ,” you repeat. you can hear him undressing behind you. “need you, rog.”

he slides into you slowly, stretching you more than usual.

“‘ve missed this tight fucking cunt, love,” roger growls.

his voice, all husky and low, drives you crazy. “ _god_.” you moan.

roger keeps his pace more leisurely than fervent, making you clench around him when he lands the first harsh smack on your arse.

“ _fuck!_ ” you cry.

“givin’ my pretty girl what she wanted?” roger pants. he’s getting closer, drawing you with him which each slap.

“jesus, _yes_ ,”

“close, love?”

“ _yeah_.”

“say- _fuck_ -want you to **say my name** when you cum baby girl.”

another slap, and you’re done for -quicker than usual after weeks of being deprived. you come _hard_ , gripping the mattress beneath you with a desperate cry of his name until you feel your arousal dripping down your thighs.

with another thrust or two, roger gives his distinctive grunt and pulls out of you, reeling his cum over your red printed arse.

you fall forward onto your stomach once he calms down with a pant. “ _fuck me_.”

“would be my pleasure.” roger collapses next to you. “but i’m all fucked out.”

“that was.. _god_.” you murmer lazily. “glad you dragged it out of me.”

roger chuckles. he pulls you into him, indifferent to his seed still decorating your bare skin. “let me know if you have any more bright ideas.”

“mm,” you hum. “will do.”

\-------------

**request: dom roger hhhhhh**

i have so many thoughts about dom roger. i picture him as a witty kind of dom. always teasing you and making sarcastic remarks about the whole dynamic.

he’s completely smooth, too. he can say the most outrageous things, tell you he wants to _tie you to his bed and fuck you until you can’t come for a week_ , and somehow have it come out perfectly suave and unstilted.

that’s another thing about him, too —the way he catches you off guard. you’ll be enjoying a dinner out with the band when he leans over to you, nips at your earlobe in a way that probably looks perfectly innocent to everyone else. but he’ll also whisper unspeakable things that have you swallowing whimpers. he’ll subtly slip his long fingers into the waistband of your knickers until you’re begging, _please, let’s go home_.

and when roger takes you home, the surprises don’t end.

sometimes he’ll drop down onto the edge of the bed and beckon you onto his thigh, making you work for your orgasm, because _you wanted it, slut._

other times he’ll give you what you need straight away. he’ll take you hard and rough, burying himself to the hilt and drumming his fingers relentless on your clit.

occasionally you’re his _good girl_ , and he’ll tell you so as he pushes you over the edge again and again and again.

whatever he decides, it always leaves your legs numb and shaking, and a delicious satisfied ache between them. and it always ends the same way: giggly banter exchanged as roger tends to your inner thighs with a wet towel and disparately tender kisses goodnight.

\-------------

**request: Please omg sub!Roger eating you out and his nose keeps nudging you and you’re praising him because of how his nose is stimulating you so much FUCK and it turns him on - I have a nose kink**

you’ve had a hard day at work; boss being a dick, co workers getting on your last nerve, a headache you can’t seem to shake. and even though roger’s pent up after a week of you staying late at the office, he’s dead set on tonight being _about you_.

so as you get changed, roger eases you back on to the bed, despite your empty protests, and wiggles your knickers down your legs.

“fuck,” he mutters into your core as he kneels. “i love your cunt so bloody much.”

“jesus, rog,” you exhale sharply as he works his tongue through your folds. “that’s it, _fuck_ , there.”

he obeys, and as he continues his ministrations at your entrance, the tip of his nose begins to nudge your clit.

you bite the back of your hand so hard you almost draw blood, because shit, the pressure is painfully euphoric. “that’s my pretty boy,” you praise. “ _fucking christ_ \- roger, keep going.”

roger ruts his hips into the foot of the bed, some kind of small relief for his achingly hard cock. he draws out your orgasm as it comes with languid flicks of his tongue over your clit, kissing his way up your middle as soon as you’ve finished.

“feel better?” he pulls you into his side.

“lots.” you palm gently at his crotch. “didn’t know how much i needed that.”

\-------------

**request: can I have some soft domestic roger hcs? your writing is so warm and sweet!!**

  * after knowing roger a very long time, you’ve decided he can be summed up quite concisely - he’s wild by nature, but soft at heart.
  * he loves his indulgent saturday nights, but not nearly as much as his quiet sunday afternoons.
  * the two of you have something of a rule - offers from your other friends for plans on a sunday are always to be rejected, because sundays are reserved for just the two of you.
  * roger makes you breakfast in the mid-morning. what started as him bringing you toast in bed has turned into an elaborate event - a full english plus pancakes or waffles, whatever he’s fancying, with coffee and tea and perhaps a mimosa (depends on how your heads are feeling).
  * you walk afterwards, and never to the same place. sometimes it’s a quick trip down to the shops at your corner to replenish the groceries squandered on brunch. other times you and roger stroll for hours, lost in conversation and not noticing how far you’ve gone.
  * when you’re back at the flat, you shower. often together. you wash any remenants of last nights antics from each other - he’ll take care of your smudged eyeliner as you admire the new set of hickies on his throat.
  * roger pulls you into his soapy chest and kisses the top of your head under the steaming hot stream, and occasionally he’ll fuck you with his warm, wet and deft hands.
  * you make tea wrapped in a towel, dripping onto the kitchen tiles. roger comes out whining about the mess, but is quickly subdued when you press a hot mug into his hands.
  * you’ll laze on the couch and review your bills and budgets (in which sunday brunches occupy a large column) with the pretence of being adult and in charge of your own affairs.
  * you bore easily, and roger gives into your efforts to distract him without much provocation. you’ll fuck lazily on the couch, sometimes twice, before deciding that it’s been too long since brunch and you should start making dinner.
  * roger cleans as you cook - despite his free spiritedness, he likes things neat. he finds cleaning soothing. he puts on a record (sometimes his own if he’s feeling a little narcissistic) and folds the washing at the kitchen table so he can talk to you.
  * roger sets candles on the table, and you eat and talk. usually he’ll say something utterly boyish and you have to poke his shoulder with your fork.
  * in bed you read. sometimes you poke your heads over each other’s shoulders, because you’ve bored of your own books.
  * this always leads to your head on roger’s chest, him with one arm wrapped around you and the other resting on your thigh.
  * you fall asleep that way, warm and thinking about him.




End file.
